


Sad Songs, Darling

by Barfily



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: End of the world (more or less), M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barfily/pseuds/Barfily
Summary: It's the end of the world, but Mingyu has Hard Carry.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Sad Songs, Darling

They saved Chan first. Stupidly. 

But they were naive back then. They'd only ever known themselves as healthy and strong and good, and all they cared about was _the right thing_. There wasn't even any debate. They could only pick one out of their thirteen members to evacuate Seoul, and Chan was their youngest, so it had to be him. Off Chan went. 

Sixty days later, they could save someone else. 

By then they'd seen some things – there was _some_ concern, but not enough to voice what everyone was thinking: _shouldn't we consider Jeonghan? Minghao?_ They could both get the wind knocked out of them at the best of times, Minghao has awful luck about getting sick but – 

But nothing. Hansol was the youngest. It was Seungcheol's firm decision, like he was making a point to the universe, like he was refusing to let circumstance change them. Hansol was saved next.

But Chan and Hansol were both sturdy, Chan was strong and Hansol had been serious about going to the gym regularly when they got the orders to evacuate Seoul, his shoulders were broader and chest more defined than they had ever been. They were hardy and resillient, clever and hard working, and to send the two of them away like that... what _idiots_.

Though, really, Seungkwan is still an idiot when it comes to Hansol. Even today, he'd probably send Hansol off to safety before himself. 

Maybe that's just easy to say. It's been long enough that Seungkwan's memories of Hansol are pleasant daydreams more than anything else. 

"That's a nice smile," Mingyu says, catching Seungkwan's expression.

"Mm," Seungkwan hums. "I'm remembering the prettiest boy I ever knew~" 

Seungkwan didn't actually realize it was a taunt until it doesn't work. Mingyu doesn't react. Just keeps roasting dinner. 

Seungkwan pouts and scoots closer, until he's resting his cheek against Mingyu's broad back.

Mingyu's body was strong before, and is strong now, but the muscles that used to be soft and swell generously have become hard, firm. It feels like there's no fat left in his body, and the muscles he has now are the kind that come from desperation: pushing your body to move, and move, and move, and keep moving even when it needs to stop, it has to stop, but it can't.

Mingyu's face is still soft though. 

He's still pretty. 

Seungkwan kisses his shoulder, then cranes up, awkwardly, to kiss his cheek, just in case Mingyu's afraid of otherwise. 

Mingyu takes Seungkwan's hand and squeezes. He's not upset. 

"Are they done?"

Mingyu turns the fish skewers over the fire. "Almost."

They're on the roof, cooking fish over a barrel. 

The power in Seoul was cut long enough ago that Soonyoung and Jihoon were still around. Since then, they carry the fish they catch for dinner up to the roof, and set a fire in this barrel. 

It's better than cooking on the sidewalk, but even up here they have to be careful. Anyone nearby can smell it, and the trail of smoke can be seen for miles, letting everyone know that this location is a place that has food, and people. 

Sometimes they'll go to a different neighborhood, just for that reason. 

Today they don't, today they're lazy. They caught two bass and four tiny carps and don't do anything but clean and roast them. They're not even adding any spices, just holding the fish over the fire until the meat is hot enough long enough to eat. 

Seungkwan got sick of the taste of fish months ago. Then he got sick of being sick of the taste, and now it's just an expected, by rote part of the day. This is just the thing he has to make time to chew and swallow, every now and then. It's not something he enjoys, but it doesn't hurt, either. It just is.

"Food's ready," Seungkwan says, climbing through the window of their tiny apartment. It's not enough to wake Jeonghan, so he prods him with his foot as he walks by. 

Jeonghan spends most of days sleeping. When he's awake, he's pale and fragile, and when they lay together at night, he feels like sticks twined together with string, and Seungkwan wants to cry, and apologize, over and over again, that it happened like this. 

Jeonghan groans as he sits up, and it's an awful question, but it's one they have to ask, passing Jeonghan a skewered carp. Urgent looks, between the fish and Jeonghan's face. They can't afford to let food go to waste.

_Are you going to be able to keep it down?_

Jeonghan does his best. Leaning back on one hand, he eats in slow, careful bites, chewing, then sighing out through his nose. 

Seungkwan won't be mad if Jeonghan vomits, but he will be hungry later. So will Mingyu.

They sit, tense, watching for any signs of it coming back up.

Jeonghan finishes chewing, and swallows. 

Takes another bite. 

Chews, slowly. 

Swallows.

"It can't be much longer. Just a few more weeks, probably," Seungkwan says when they've finished. 

"One way or another," Jeonghan says. When he sees the stricken look on Mingyu and Seungkwan's faces, he laughs and apologizes, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. 

Jeonghan does throw up, but it's hours later. 

Seungkwan wakes to the sound of it in the middle of the night, Jeonghan slumped over the side of the mat, puking into a bowl, but Seungkwan considers it a victory. At least he kept most of it down. 

x

The evacuations happen in waves. Usually only one member of a household at a time, but sometimes, they've allowed two. 

The last person they sent off to safety was Seokmin, and Seungkwan's lost track of how many months it's been since that painful goodbye. 

"Tell my mother I miss her, and I'm thinking about her," Seungkwan had said, but it was the sixth time he'd said it, and he was competing with Mingyu and Jeonghan's instructions, as well. _Don't forget to give this to my sister,_ and _Tell Seungcheol I expect him to buy me dinner_. 

Seokmin nodded, but his eyes were glazed, darting from each of their faces aimlessly. He wasn't listening. 

He hugged each of them, had a hard time letting go, shaking from the sobs when he finally crossed to safety, like he was the one losing something. 

They watched him until the doors at the check point closed behind him. They have not opened again. 

This is a long time. Since it all started, it's only been a few months between each new wave, but it's definitely been longer than that. It's the longest the checkpoint has been closed, Seungkwan thinks.

It's something that worries Mingyu and Jeonghan, but in the time it takes each day to clean their fish hooks and wash their blankets, and clothes, and tape up the windows, and everything else, Seungkwan has been busy getting his hopes up that this means something good. 

Maybe, next time they open the gate, it won't just be one or two per household they'll let in, but _three_. 

"Maybe that's why it's taken so long," Seungkwan says. "Maybe they'll let everyone evacuate this time."

"Maybe," Mingyu mumbles. Flat. Not even seriously considering it as he carefully funnels one of their buckets of rainwater into a water bottle. He's agreeing, but just to avoid an argument, which, to Seungkwan, is the rudest, most cowardly disagreement. 

He frowns and punches Mingyu's arm. 

Mingyu tsks, rolling his shoulder and scowling like it hurt badly, but it didn't. 

It makes Seungkwan want to punch him again, but he should've known better than to share this with Mingyu. Mingyu doesn't humor anything for the sake of it. It's his favorite thing to nitpick, he _likes_ it, so going to him with this sort of rose-colored daydream is asking to be let down. 

If he wanted to hear a nice story, Seungkwan should've gone to Jeonghan. 

So once they finish bottling up their water supply, he finds Jeonghan. 

He lays down beside him on the bedmat, and Jeonghan blinks awake slowly, wrapping an arm around Seungkwan before he fully manages, petting down the back of his head, like he was trying to sooth a distressed child. 

This isn't how Jeonghan used to touch Seungkwan. Before all of this started, he really only babied Seungkwan as a joke. But he seemed to know, way before Seungkwan, that it was a sort of comfort he would need.

"What if they let three people in next?" Seungkwan asks.

"That would be nice," Jeonghan says, distantly.

"Really," Seungkwan says, annoyed that Jeonghan isn't cooperating either. Seokmin would've. Jun would've. Hansol would've, too. "They _could_."

Jeonghan sighs, like he's going to give bad news, and Seungkwan whines, and if he had been standing, he might have stomped. 

"Aah, poor Seungkwannie. Okay," Jeonghan says, in the same sort of quiet, gentle tone used for telling children's bedtime stories. "So... if all three of us get to leave at the same time? Everyone would be waiting for us once we cross the check point. They would've gotten excited about it too, getting there early. We'd see them all right there, right away. Seungcheol's probably gained weight I think, don't you? And they'll cry. We'll cry, too, but they'll cry even more than that, you'll get tired of it, you'll have to tell them to stop... We'll have dinner together. Your sisters will be there. Mingyu's sister will be there."

"Your sister will be there."

Jeonghan's smile carves a spot on his face, but doesn't reach his eyes again. Wan and fake. "Yes."

Understanding the limit, that he's asked for too much, Seungkwan stops there. 

They lay in silence together. 

Seungkwan imagines the scene Jeonghan painted: all his members waiting to see them again – they're such a big group, they're always easy to spot. 

They'll shout, too. They'll be so loud when they see each other, hollering their names and rushing over. They'll annoy the rest of the people waiting. Seokmin will wave, excited, Hansol will wait until Seungkwan gets close, practically right there, before he wraps him tight in a hug, crushing him with the force of it. Soonyoung will cry. 

Jihoon – Jihoon will cry. 

Minghao will cry. 

Jeonghan's right, they'll all cry. Because they miss each other.

This is getting less fun.

He pictures the dinner instead. The bowls and bowls of food, of meat, cooked and rubbed with seasoning, so moist and soft, noddles and soda and sugary desserts, soup so thick with crisp, crunchy vegetables they pile in the center of the bowl, steaming dumplings. He pictures Soonyoung siting on his left side, and Seokmin on his right, and they have such a good time that they're too loud, laughing so hard they shake the table, and someone groans, _who let those three sit together??_

Seungkwan's eyes start to sting, so he stops thinking about dinner, too.

Because he knows they're both right.

If just one of them can evacuate Seoul, that's easy – it's Jeonghan, it has to be Jeonghan.

And if it's three, that's also easy. 

But. It will probably be two. 

x

Seungkwan has a nightmare. 

He dreams of Mingyu's hair falling out, and dream Mingyu cries. He's distressed, holding the clumps in his hands. Dream Mingyu is worried about what the company will say, about his image, and dream Seungkwan frets, mostly because he doesn't have the words, he doesn't know how to tell Mingyu, that really – it doesn't matter now, not anymore... Mingyu is stuck here, he will always be stuck here. How awful it is that Mingyu hasn't realized it yet, dream Seungkwan wrings his hands, not sure how to tell him...

Seungkwan wakes, body stiff and aching from how completely still he held his body during this awful dream, sweat seeping into the pillow beneath his head. 

The dream feels cruel, underestimating Mingyu, mocking him. Seungkwan doesn't like that it was in his head, or what it could mean. 

Real Mingyu sits in the chair beside the window. He's slumped, exhausted. He has to keep watch another two hours, when Seungkwan will take over. 

In the moonlight he's beautiful and perfect and whole. He's carried each and every one of the members, through injuries and illness and cowardice, and still he stands, a sturdy, unshakable foundation. 

Seungkwan wants to see him this way, very badly, wants that to be all there is to it, but the dream won't let him keep up that lie. 

x

They used to make their trips to the market as early as they could in the mornings, hoping for the best selection. That was before Jeonghan realized late afternoon was best – just before sunset. 

That's when people get the most desperate, willing to make rash, stupid trades. When they're most susceptible to Jeonghan's soothing, honeyed words, because they can't go home with nothing, and time is running out – the gangs own the city after sunset. 

"We're off," Mingyu says.

"Get soap!" Seungkwan says. "Forget about anything else, if anyone's got soap, get it!!"

Mingyu makes a vague noise of agreement, Jeonghan doesn't bother. Of course they're not going to pass up essentials no matter what Seungkwan says, but it's been _forever_ of washing in nothing but filthy river water, and Seungkwan is still wearing that awful dream in the sticky, tacky feel of his forehead. 

He frowns, unable to do much else as he watches Mingyu piggyback Jeonghan, pulling their cart of fish down the street.

It might be easier if Seungkwan was walking with them, to help, but someone has to keep watch over their apartment, and that someone is always Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan is no good at the market. 

He just bundles up everything they've got worth trading, mostly fish, and carries it to their cart, and waves them goodbye.

The market is the center of the city. If you want food but can't catch it or grow it yourself, you have to go to the market. If you want a blanket or utensils or anything you can't make for yourself, you go to the market. It's where everyone who has a need gathers. The feeble, tiny, elderly, hands shaking, half-blind and half-deaf, asking for their family, then, when that goes unanswered, asking for a bite, just a bite, they're so hungry... The children, the injured, the sick, the ones left behind because their own people couldn't or wouldn't afford to carry the weight of another body.

The only thing left for them is to wait where they can be easily found, hoping for mercy or rescue. 

Seungkwan can't give either. All of it is spoken for, he promised everything he has to his own family. 

Seungkwan knows it, and he wouldn't change it, but he can't walk by that kind of suffering without carrying part of it with him. The guilt of it, their hungry, desperate stares, are scalding, all the way down to his bones. 

The numbness that others develop never seems to come, Seungkwan could never figure out how to stop cradling that guilt close to his chest, even as it burned its way through, eating away at his feeble, fragile heart.

Seungkwan tried to pretend otherwise, the last thing he wanted was to be difficult, to make the others feel judged for not doing the same – he wanted to be useful, and ended up shaking from the effort of pretending that he was, until he finally cracked, sobbing. 

Was it Soonyoung who comforted him? Seungkwan can't really remember, he was crying so hard. Seungkwan is not strong enough to help with the heavy lifting, he can't fish particularly well, he can't stop anyone from getting sick, from getting injured, he's a coward, if anything he should be one of the people left behind in the market. What would he do on his own? How would he survive? The idea is terrifying, and it's the reality for those poor people – 

No one asks him to go to the market after that. 

Now he just sits in the chair beside the window, blinds drawn except for a crack. Seungkwan likes where they are now, and hopes they'll get to stay until the evacuations finish. It's nice for keeping watch, because unlike the other spaces they squatted in, their current apartment has just one door, and one window. The door is below the window, so it's easy to keep an eye on both.

There probably won't be looters – but there's still that small chance. They're close enough to the river that it's not unusual to see foot traffic down on the streets. It's not unusual to see that foot traffic pause, checking the homes and emptied businesses along the way. 

The downstairs is an abandoned bakery, which does get them some additional attention. Desperate people trying their luck, searching through the already ransacked counters, opening the long since emptied displays, ovens, hoping to find something they can use. Flour is as good as gold, but they'll take anything, anything – 

There's nothing. 

Mingyu and Seungkwan will stare at each other, silently, as they listen to the visitors downstairs realize the place has already been picked dry several times over. 

They wait, tense, ready, for them to wander just a little more, find the tiny, crooked staircase in the back. So far, none have. The low ceiling makes it hard to tell that there's even a second floor at all, and the stair case is squished awkwardly in a corner, hard to see from any other angle. 

The stairs are an awful climb, too, the steps narrow and high, and each time Seungkwan has to lean on the railing, he can't help wondering about the previous owners. 

Their pictures are still on the walls, and sitting on the nightstand. It was an older couple, probably in their sixties. Once the evacuation limit per households were established, suicides among the elderly became an epidemic overnight, parents determined to send their grown children to safety. 

Did this couple do the same? Or maybe they were childless. Seungkwan likes to imagine that better. That they considered their little business, their bakery, their child. That that was the saddest thing they experienced! Having to leave it behind, while they were both escorted to safety. 

Seungkwan hopes so. 

Also, he pouts, resting his chin on the window frame as he remembers his other impossible wish. 

He hopes Mingyu and Jeonghan find soap. 

x

"Who are we sending if they only accept two?" 

"You and Seungkwan."

"Hm," Jeonghan says.

Maybe he expected Mingyu to fight it, because he doesn't seem to have anything to say after that. But Mingyu is not stupid. 

He's known from the start that he was going to be the last one to leave. 

Well, him or Seungcheol. Once Seungcheol got hurt, Mingyu knew it was settled.

He didn't expect Jeonghan or Seungkwan to be stuck here with him, though. 

Chan, then Hansol, because of their ages, yeah. They probably would've come to a fast agreement on Seungkwan after that, if Minghao hadn't gotten sick. But his breathing became terrifying: wet and heavy, the sound had all of them watching him as he struggled to rest, scared to look away even for a moment. 

Well, he had to be next. 

Joshua got pulled out and processed through the American embassy. Jun was right after that, to the Chinese. 

Seungcheol rolled his ankle while carrying firewood. It broke, it started swelling, and first it was just his ankle that was hot to the touch but soon it spread across his entire body. He was sweating and delirious, the hospitals were down to the last of their supplies, didn't even have painkiller to spare. When the check point opened next, they could send two, and Seungcheol left with Wonwoo, after Wonwoo won rock, paper, scissors. 

The next pair to leave came months later, and they used rock, paper, scissors, again. Soonyoung and Jihoon both won, and they had both protested – Soonyoung had a worrying infection on his arm, so no one was paying much attention to him. Jihoon had been angry, but he had thrown rock, and Seungkwan had thrown scissors.

Mingyu remembers that vividly, because he wishes, all the time, that Seungkwan had thrown paper. 

He wishes it was anyone other than Seungkwan stuck with him. Usually, Seungkwan seems like the man he knows, but sometimes he's a stranger – timid, unsure of himself, opening his mouth to speak, then changing his mind. The fire that drives Seungkwan has gone cold and quiet. This city, being stuck here, being so helpless, is damaging him in a very real way, and if Mingyu could physically throw Seungkwan over the gate, to safety, he would. 

But he can't. He couldn't throw Seokmin either. 

Those two, he thinks, were the biggest mistakes. Seungkwan and Seokmin. They should've been two of the first to go. 

Seokmin had endured in silence, so they had missed just how bad it had become until it was too late. He was a ghost of himself by the time they sent him to safety, so bad that they had to pick him over even Jeonghan. 

Mingyu watches Seungkwan carefully for signs that the same thing is happening to him. 

Jeonghan-hyung. His body just can't keep up with his mind. There's a steel, unbreakable core running down his center, or at least he does a good job of pretending like there is. He doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, he's stared at the worst they've had to do with calm acceptance. 

Mingyu can catch fish, he can clean it, he can repair a broken window, he can do a lot, but the things Jeonghan takes on, only Jeonghan can do. 

"I have daughters," says the man who visited their cart. Older, shorter, with sagging clothes suggesting that he used to be heavier, too. "They need to eat."

"Everyone needs to eat," Jeonghan says, unmoved. 

"You have so much, you can't spare any of it??" the man says, looking between Mingyu, Jeonghan, and their piles of fish. His voice goes a bit hysteric as he continues, "Where else can I go? Who else has fish besides you and those goons?? There's nothing else! The rations ran out months ago - "

"I told you our answer," Jeonghan says. "You could always wait for the one of the gangs and ask some of them instead, but if you don't have anything to trade, we can't help."

Mingyu is a bit surprised at this. Normally at this point Jeonghan would tell the man to come back at sundown, and see if they have any extra to spare. At the very least he'd be a bit more gentle about turning the man down, but he's merciless here, legs crossed, hands in his lap. He's relaxed, even while the man gets more agitated, starts to shout. There's really no need to worry, the man is keenly aware of Mingyu's presence, keeps glancing up toward him – he's not going to lunge at Jeonghan with Mingyu standing right behind him.

At the mention of the gangs, the man goes sullen, cowed into silence.

"I saw you trading earlier," Jeonghan says. "You gave sheets to that ajumma."

"Well I'm all out of fabric!!"

"We don't need sheets," Jeonghan says. "What did you get in return? It looked like a bottle."

The old man hesitates. 

"What do you think your daughters need more?" Jeonghan says. "Food? Or soap?"

From his reluctance, Mingyu can tell this was a gift. Something the man was supposed to surprise his family with. 

He slowly pulls out the half filled bottle of liquid body soap. Citrus scented. Jeonghan sends a grin over his shoulder. How perfect.

"Okay~" Jeonghan says, happily bagging the soap. "Take your pick. You can have half."

The old man's brows jump in surprise before he coaches his expression back down. Probably, he hadn't guessed that soap would be so valuable to these two young men. If he had known, maybe he would've opened with the trade. It's a nice thought. Either way, Mingyu can't bring himself to regret it, he can already hear Seungkwan's loud shout of excited surprise. The sort of happy production that would've felt put-on, an overreaction in the past, Mingyu would pay to see it now. 

With half their fish gone, they quickly trade the rest. They get a few needed supplies, load up their cart again, and start the walk back home.

It's late, basically sundown, so Mingyu's not surprised to see gang members start riding into the open court yard of the emptying market, making a deliberately intimidating ruckus, hitting metal street signs and railings with sticks, dragging chains, hollering rude nonsense to each other and anyone nearby.

"Hey, girlie~" 

"Look at that pretty thing."

"Mingyu-hyung, let me talk to your girlfriend! I promise I'll be nice~"

Mingyu is lucky enough to be able to ignore the gangs. He's big, and to him, they're not really threats as much as angry brats. Malnourished, orphaned, shorter, younger, and weaker than him. Occasionally they do have weapons, but they seem more keen to use them on each other in turf wars than Mingyu, who they all have a tentative peace with. He's taught more than handful of them how to fish at the river, he'll give them a hand when they get their nets tangled or need help lifting or moving something, so they'll otherwise leave him be. 

The catcalls toward Jeonghan aren't fun, but Jeonghan ignores them, and Mingyu knows they won't be followed as they leave the market. 

"You're getting too light, hyung," Mingyu mutters, adjusting Jeonghan's weight, which feels like almost nothing on his back. 

Jeonghan doesn't respond, when usually he would say a joke, or tease, or if he was very annoyed, apologize for wasting Mingyu's fish. 

When Mingyu turns his head, he sees Jeonghan's gaze has gone distant. 

"Hyung… ?"

"My fingers are numb," he says, flat. "They started a while back. I'm cold all the time."

Mingyu does not dare to interrupt. He's never once heard Jeonghan complain, not once, this entire time, not seriously. 

He is terrified, unable to imagine how bad it must actually be, for Jeonghan to say something now.

"I probably can't walk far on my own – I'm dizzy right now, I'd fall over if I was on my feet… but Mingyu-ssi's here," he sighs. "I'm grateful, you know. And I'm proud that you're my younger brother, if I could brag to anyone I would. So make sure you brag for yourself a lot when you can."

Here, Mingyu wants to interrupt, desperately, it sounds too much like a goodbye, words Jeonghan wants to make sure Mingyu hears. "Hyung." 

"I just don't want it to be a surprise. If they don't let people in soon," Jeonghan's tone and gaze is impassive again. "It's only a matter of time."

Mingyu doesn't nod, he doesn't accept it, he refuses to, but he does hear it. That seems to be enough for Jeonghan. They say nothing else the entire walk back.

" _Soap!?_ It's soap? You got – " Seungkwan holds the bottle in both hands. His eyes are actually shining. "It's real? This is real stuff??" 

He uncaps it, smells it, and a noise of such genuine, surprised happiness, that both Jeonghan and Mingyu laugh. 

Seungkwan hugs Mingyu tight in thanks, and just his happiness has lit up the room, filled it with a kind of energy Mingyu wants to cling to the same way Seungkwan is holding the bottle, nearly bouncing in place. 

Seungkwan coaches his excitement back down, and very seriously starts talking about how they can make the soap last, coming up with rules about how much each of them can use – _let's pour it into three jars first, so we can each use as much as we want_. He's trying to be fair, but Mingyu will not use Seungkwan's soap. Nothing would make Mingyu happier than for Seungkwan to use as much as he likes.


End file.
